


show me something we haven't heard yet

by swiiftly



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 20:49:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swiiftly/pseuds/swiiftly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Gavin Free tries to be a gentleman and it doesn't quite backfire, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	show me something we haven't heard yet

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Craze for the awesome beta job (high five for dialogue tags!) and to my dumb boyfriend in California for letting me tell stories about these assholes on AIM until four in the morning.
> 
> I can't believe Rooster Teeth is the first fandom I've ever managed to post substantial fic for. THIS IS MY LIFE NOW.

Gavin is trying very hard to resist the urge to drown himself in his cereal.

Talking to Griffon about it had seemed like a good idea at the time; he'd given it a lot of thought, imagined all the possible outcomes, and decided that even if they kicked him out, he could probably (maybe) get Michael to take him in, at least for a little while. Unless Geoff fired him. But Burnie wouldn't let that happen, right? Right. Not that he'd be able to show his face in the Achievement Hunter office in the worst case scenario, anyway. At least he'd always have Dan. Maybe he should have called Dan. 

Griffon is still giving him that look. 

Usually mornings in the Ramsey house are one of his favorite times. No one's ever wearing much in the way of clothes yet and Geoff doesn't mind if Gavin slings his legs up over his lap. Sometimes Geoff will rest his hands there, start tapping his fingers along to whatever song he's been butchering this week, or let them slip under the leg of his pajamas and run along bare skin, and that sort of thing is what's gotten him into this mess, isn't it. 

But now it's just him and Griffon, morning Griffon with her hair mussed and eyes bright, sitting cross-legged on the chair with legs bare and a shockingly bright shade of red on her toenails, applied sloppily enough that it must have been Millie in charge. He makes the mistake of meeting her eyes again, and that's it, he's opening his mouth again and he doesn't know what's going to come out.

"It's just. He's always around, isn't he, and sometimes I have to wonder, like, if he ever thinks about, because I—" There's no good way to end this sentence, no way that won't have him bursting into flames of embarrassment, and now Griffon is raising her eyebrows at him, and he swears the corner of her mouth is curling up, but whether it's some kind of snarl or a grin, he has no idea, and—

"Morning, guys," Geoff says as he wanders into the kitchen, too soon, way too bloody soon, why did Gavin have to stall so much? Geoff's not wearing a shirt, of course, just some worn out boxers. One hand is ruffling up his hair, followed by a yawn and a stretch, followed by him cracking his fucking neck, and that's it, Gavin's down, head on the table with a truly undignified noise.

"What's up Gavin's butt?" Gavin tilts his head to the side so he can glare up at Geoff, who's got his arms draped over Griffon's shoulders, chin rested on her head, and—it takes Gavin's breath away sometimes, the two of them; especially in the mornings, somehow. They share space like no one else and Gavin wants to climb right into that, but he still doesn't know how he fits, really. Not in an insecure way, because he's long since given up being insecure about his place in the Ramsey house, but just…he's curious. He wonders. Wondering is his problem.

"Oh, Gavin's just trying to ask my permission to fuck you," Griffon says, casual, and sips at her coffee. Gavin can't actually sink further into his chair, can't bury his head into the table, so he watches dumbly as Griffon kisses Geoff on the cheek and stands up, patting Gavin on the head on her way out of the kitchen. "Have a good day at work, boys!"

Geoff hasn't moved. "Uh. I'm gonna." He waves his hand vaguely in the direction of the liquor, and Gavin, inexplicably, nods at him, as if he needs Gavin's permission. He hears the telltale sounds of Geoff fumbling for the top shelf, bottles clinking together, muttered obscenities, and then a long exhale after he downs a drink of what Gavin is sure is his best whiskey. Maybe he should be glad that his libido's betrayal is worthy of Geoff's finest. Maybe he should run out the front door while Geoff's not looking.

But then he is looking, leaning against the wall, his still sleepy eyes narrowed at Gavin. And again, Gavin can't fucking read the expression, and now the silence is driving him a bit mad. So he breaks it.

"…She didn't even give me an answer." Not his strongest effort, especially with the whine creeping into his voice, and Geoff makes a strangled sound in response. Gavin watches as he closes his eyes, takes a few deep breaths, and then: 

"We're leaving in ten minutes. Be ready, Gavin."

He's ready in five.

\--

The view out the car window from the Ramsey house to the office has never been so fascinating. Positively scenic, Gavin thinks, forehead pressed to the glass, letting his breath fog up the window. He draws a dick in the condensation, pauses a moment, then adds a frowny face and deems it a self portrait of the artist in pain. He counts the number of cyclists they pass and wonders if getting smacked by a car door on a bike would even be more excruciating than sharing a car with a silent inscrutable Geoff Ramsey.

  
  
art by [ahnmilk @ tumblr](http://ahnmik.tumblr.com/post/55171885306/he-draws-a-dick-in-the-condensation-pauses-a)  


He slumps back in his seat and sighs, turning to look at Geoff. The one upside to Geoff's commitment to the cold shoulder silent treatment is that it allows Gavin to stare at him without Geoff yelling at him to knock it off. But no, Geoff hasn't spared him a single glance the whole ride, and Gavin has tried every passive-aggressive deep sigh and restless shifting move in his arsenal. He even considered the classic yawn and stretch arm around the shoulder you're supposed to use on girls at the movies, but he can see how tightly Geoff is gripping the wheel and he doesn't want that tension unleashed on him. Not in this traffic, at least.

It's bizarre to see him like this, rigid and closed off and not giving a single thing away. Gavin has spent the last few years cataloguing all of Geoff's tells, not on purpose, but when you've spent that much time with someone, you learn things. He knows the way his voice drops when he's actually had enough of your shit, the particular snarl that's a prelude to bodily harm, but this is rare, this stillness and quiet. _Especially with me_ , Gavin thinks, and even the whine inside his head makes him cringe. 

He's moved on to playing Pokemon with the sound all the way up (and that's not even getting a rise out of Geoff, bloody hell) when they finally pull into the Rooster Teeth lot. Gavin sighs and tucks his DS back into the glove compartment, and when he sits back, Geoff is _looking_ at him. Gavin stops and stares back—normally this is where he'd make a stupid face, but he's determined to hold this eye contact, so Geoff can't very well look away without admitting defeat. 

"Okay. Gavin. I'm not saying no, but fucking Christ, did you have to pull this shit on a Tuesday?"

"Wha—I—" 

"Also we're not gonna talk about this now, so get out of my car, kid." Geoff reaches a hand to Gavin's shoulder, and maybe it's wishful thinking but Gavin swears he holds it there an extra moment longer before shoving him towards the door. 

\--

 _I'm not saying no_.

The problem is, he's not saying much else, either. 

It's not like they would have been chatting all day, anyway. They both have, surprise surprise, actual work to do. But Gavin can't help that itch at the back of his neck that has him looking over his shoulder approximately every ten seconds, if the way Michael keeps making aggravated noises and throwing things at him is any indication. The glances are all for naught, though, since Geoff is a master at ignoring Gavin when he wants to. He's gotten a lot of practice.

It doesn't matter how much practice Gavin has had at ignoring himself, though, because he can't stop his brain from retreading all the same questions and hypotheticals that got him into this mess. He doesn't even have to imagine very hard; there are already so few physical boundaries between the two of them and it's maddening, really, the moment where he stops categorizing touches as _friend_ and starts noting how long Geoff rests his hand at the back of his neck, how many days in a row end with them wrapped up on the couch, all knees and elbows but still refusing to acknowledge the concept of personal space. It feels like family until it doesn't anymore and even Gavin's powers of repression aren't strong enough to push this aside. 

After an hour of editing, the tracks of the Let’s Play are blurring together in his head, jumbled and overlapping and he can’t find the thread in their jokes. He’s useless right now. He sighs and spins around once in his chair; everyone else seems to be working quietly today of all days, when he desperately needs a distraction, but instead he’s on his own. Normally he’d make his own distraction, but he’s basically drowning in the tension he created and he can’t pin his thoughts down, can’t settle, and maybe his words have gotten him in enough trouble today.

Which is why he’s thankful when Geoff breaks the silence, clapping his hands together. “Alright lads and gents, gather ‘round, we’ve got a Let’s Play to film!”

It’s a Minecraft day, and this, this he can handle. He can turn up the volume and throw himself into chaotic meddling and it’ll be easy and simple and kill a few hours of this day and he can totally, definitely handle it. 

That confidence doesn’t last long.

He doesn’t mean to (at least not the first time), but he keeps running into Geoff, and... it would be weird if he just left and minded his own business, right? But by the third time he’s flooded Geoff’s mine with lava and incinerated his inventory, Geoff is actively fuming and it’s not going unnoticed anymore.

“Jesus Christ, Gavin, calm the fuck down and take a time out,” and it’s not Geoff’s joking voice, it’s a warning. Gavin braves a glance over his shoulder and sees the tension in Geoff’s shoulders; this might not end well.

“Seriously, screenlooker, get off Geoff’s dick,” is Michael’s helpful input, because of course Michael will take any opportunity to back up Geoff when Gavin is in trouble, the _traitor_.

“I wasn’t—I didn’t—but I want the opposite of that! I—oh, bloody hell.”

It’s not like that’s in any way an unusual thing to say, not as if they don’t talk about wanting each other’s dicks all the goddamn time, but there’s no follow-up. It doesn’t launch more banter or a joke, it just drops and sinks and they’re silent for a moment. 

Gavin does not look at Geoff.

“Uh, so I think I just won?” Ray says tentatively, gesturing at his screen and Gavin has never been so thankful to lose a Let’s Play in his life. Everyone redirects their attention back to Minecraft and Gavin lets out the breath he’d been holding, slumping down in his chair and watching Ray erect the Tower of Pimps. When he realizes he’s been silent for an uncharacteristically long time, he throws in a bit of nonsense, and people laugh, and the Let’s Play ends, so maybe that’s just that.

Except Geoff has stopped ignoring him now, which is a much different kind of distracting. Gavin definitely doesn’t trust himself to open his mouth in the office now, so he’s trying to lose himself in editing again, but Geoff keeps milling about the office, chatting and hovering around Gavin’s desk. Gavin grits his teeth and tries his best to ignore it, but Geoff’s presence carries too much bloody weight today.

He also can’t really get away with ignoring Geoff when he rolls his chair over to Gavin’s and starts repeating his name over and over again. When Geoff reaches for one of the trinkets littering his desk to throw at him, Gavin pulls off his headphones and glares back at him.

“ _What_?” 

“Just checking in on you, buddy,” Geoff says, and Gavin wishes he didn’t know Geoff’s tones of voice so well, because there’s definitely something underneath that faux-cheeriness. 

“I was just fine until you pestered me right out of my editing groove, boss.” Two can play at that game, and Gavin looks Geoff up and down to emphasize the implications of his answer, and he’s pretty sure he deserves an achievement for not letting his eyes linger anywhere, no matter what’s been going on in his head all day long.

Geoff is quiet for a moment, and then he lowers his voice and says, “Have lunch with me today, Gavin.” Gavin only nods, because now he doesn’t know what to read into Geoff’s words at all.

It’s going to be a long couple of hours before lunch.

\--

"Gavin. _Gavin_. Hey, asshole, are you coming?"

Gavin nearly falls out of his chair because Michael decided the best way to get his attention was to lift his headphones and shout directly into his ear. When he regains his balance, he drops his head to the desk and groans out something that he hopes answers Michael's question in the negative. 

"Holy shit, dude," Michael says through a laugh, resting a steadying hand on Gavin's shoulder. "We'll bring you something back, you're too much of a fucking mess to go out in public. Geoff? You want anything?"

Geoff doesn’t turn around, just waves a dismissive hand and says, “Nah, got leftovers for me and Gav, we’re good.”

The office empties quickly after that. Apparently Geoff really did bring leftovers and they eat in silence for few minutes.

Finally, Geoff turns around in his chair and leans forward, resting his arms on his knees. Gavin follows the lines of Geoff's arms up to his chest up to his head tilted slightly on his shoulders, and discovers the look he levels at Gavin is... considering, is the best way to describe it. Considering in a way that Gavin hadn't seen since he was just an imported Brit that Burnie dropped into Rooster Teeth, back when no one knew what the hell he was talking about. People still tend not to know what he's talking about, but at least it's expected now. 

This is perhaps a little less expected. 

The weight of Geoff's full and focused attention is unsettling and Gavin can't help but hunch over a bit, curl in on himself in his chair. He's not used to this kind of attention—it's different from the attention he draws doing stupid shit to put on the internet. This is quiet and intense and _Geoff_ , which is the weirdest part. Geoff is always the weirdest part. 

Geoff sighs and runs his hand over his face, the move he makes when he's pretending to be long suffering and too old for this shit. He props his chin in his palm and there's a smile, now, and Gavin goes a bit red and ducks his head. 

"How are you so fucking stupid, Gavin."

Of all the things Geoff could have said, this was one of the least surprising. "Um. You mean that fondly, yeah?"

"I mean that in goddamn exasperation because there are so many things you have no fucking idea about. Starting with yourself."

"D’you have to psychoanalyze me before we get to the good bits?" He looks up at Geoff again because fuck being coy, this is Geoff, not some bird in a bar he needs to get drunk with to start chatting up. They've lived together for years. It’s not like they’ve never seen each other’s dicks before. This is barely even new territory for them. 

"Calm down, buddy, I'm not done talking yet.”

Gavin purses his lips and doesn’t say a word, channeling his nervous energy through to his jittering leg and restless hands. It’s weird, having this conversation in the office, surrounded by game menu screens and Minecraft figurines and half-finished work of all their colleagues. The tension feels out of place; here they can usually feel free to roll with whatever dumb shit they come up and it doesn’t have to mean anything. But now the room is thick with it, the weight of things unsaid and too much bloody intention and significance. Gavin’s itching to burst through it, but Geoff’s got a delicate hold on the air in the room and Gavin’s brain isn’t making sense anymore.

Geoff stands up abruptly, rocking back on his heels, and Gavin’s starting to notice how unsettled Geoff is, too. Maybe he’s not as in control as he wants Gavin to think he is. Especially when he starts talking. 

“You can’t just pull this shit, at breakfast, with no warning, with my _wife_ , it’s—Christ, of course this is what you would do, why am I surprised? You’re—you’re you, you’re impossible, you have no idea.”

“You’ve not told me what it is I don’t understand yet—”

Geoff steps closer, looming over Gavin’s chair. Gavin spreads his legs without thinking, giving Geoff room, and Gavin notices the way Geoff's eyes flicker down for just a moment before he closes them and takes a steadying breath. Geoff’s hands are in fists and Gavin would really like to know what exactly is going on here. “Gavin. Did you notice how completely unsurprised Griffon was? That goddamn smile on her face?”

“I—what—she didn’t even give me an answer! She just left! What am I supposed to do with that?” He can hear his voice pitching higher, confused and a little bit hysterical.

Geoff crouches down, still fit between Gavin’s legs, and now they’re at eye level—or they would be, if Gavin could meet his eyes instead of carefully avoiding them, fixated instead on the fraying threads in the knees of Geoff’s jeans. “You could ask _me_ , you idiot!”

“But what if you—” _kiss me_ is not how he was going to finish that sentence, but Geoff has other ideas and a hand around the back of his head, pulling him roughly into a kiss and _fuck_ is it weird. It’s both intensely familiar (these hands have been everywhere) and totally new (but never have they pressed into him quite like this). He’s trying to piece together all of these sensations into something that makes sense, but then Geoff tightens his grip in his hair and Gavin gives up on thinking.

Kisses make Gavin stupid, so he’s grinning automatically when Geoff breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead against Gavin’s. Geoff jerks back after a moment and avoids Gavin’s gaze as he settles himself down on the floor, sitting between Gavin’s legs, head leaning back on Gavin's thigh. “Well, fuck my life.”

“That is the point, though, isn’t it,” Gavin says, distressingly calm, and he feels like this should be a bit weirder than it is. His skin is buzzing, there’s a bloody Olympic gymnast flip-flopping in his stomach, but Geoff kissed _him_ and even Gavin isn’t obtuse enough to misread that kind of sign. 

Geoff levels a sleepy-eyed glare up at Gavin, and the surge of affection Gavin feels for this stupid man is almost overwhelming, but more than anything else it’s still so goddamn familiar. The only thing new is the way Gavin knows it’s his own taste that Geoff is licking from his lips and the hum of anticipation between them. He’s all too aware of the fact that Geoff is still slouched between his legs and he would really like to take advantage of that.

And then the door swings open.

One would think an angry Creeper came to life and burst into their office with the way Geoff frantically scrambles to his feet, pushing at Gavin’s chair as he stumbles over to his own. Gavin’s dissolving into laughter as his chair rolls back against his desk, and Geoff crosses his arms over his chest, still glaring daggers at Gavin.

“I’m not even going to ask what the fuck you guys do alone in the office, okay,” Michael says, hands up and eyes wide as he walks back to his desk.

The rest of the guys follow behind Michael, and Ray says, “As long as it wasn’t on my desk, it’s all good!” 

Ryan stares despairingly at the couch, one hand on his hip. “...Pretty sure I have the most to worry about.”

Gavin’s still laughing, definitely a bit hysterical, so it’s up to Geoff to respond: “You’re all fired. Every one of you.”

“Hey, I didn’t say a word!” 

“...Except Jack.”

\--

The rest of the day is without incident. The kiss—the bloody _kiss_ —from Geoff flipped Gavin’s mood upside down. It’s no longer _what if_ but instead _yes_ , _when_ , _again_ , so he throws himself into editing, trying to make this day go as fast as possible because _something_ is definitely waiting at the end.

Geoff is still quiet, though but Gavin’s not worried. Occasionally he’ll catch Geoff’s eyes and it’s not confusion anymore, it’s something more like curiosity, and if Gavin happens to lick his lips when meeting Geoff’s gaze, well, it can get kind of dry in their office. It is Texas, after all.

Gavin's brain has completely ceased to focus on work by late afternoon, so much so that he's not even trying to hide the game of Minesweeper he pulls up. Not that he ever could—each exploding mine makes him jump up, curling up tenser and tenser in his chair. 

He jumps worse when Michael suddenly slams a hand down on his desk and shoots an annoyed glare in his direction. "Jesus Christ, Gavin, it's not a fucking survival horror game, how do you function in the world if you're scared of fucking Minesweeper?" 

"It's the power of simplicity, Michael, Minesweeper is fuckin' classic," Geoff says, not quite turning around, but Gavin can see the slight smile on his face. And the game of Minesweeper in the corner of his own screen, the copycat.

"Ha! See? Geoff understands me." 

"I wouldn't go that far.” Gavin knows that tone, too, the one that means Geoff is pretending he's not totally fucking endeared with Gavin. He's lying, anyway; the degree to which Geoff understands him is astounding. And now he understands a whole lot more. 

It’s a little unnerving how easily Gavin switched from going mad with anxiety to vibrating with anticipation within eight hours. If he weren’t too busy thinking about how Geoff’s hands and mouth ( _and cock_ ) would ( _will_ ) feel in other places, he might be thinking _trust_ and _family_ and _safe_ , about how Geoff wouldn’t start something like this with him that he didn’t absolutely mean to finish, how he never really needed to worry in the first place.

 _Family_ definitely isn’t what’s on his mind at the moment, though, not by a long shot.

Ryan heads out of the Achievement Hunter office early and Gavin takes full advantage of the vacated couch. Everyone is thankfully ignoring the fact that he’s ceased doing any work whatsoever and has instead decided to focus his attention on taking up as much space on the couch as humanly possible, legs splayed, arms tucked behind his head, foot tapping out an irregular rhythm.

He hasn’t moved by the time the others start getting ready to leave. Geoff hasn’t either, and Gavin has to focus very hard on staying quiet as they slowly file out.

Ray is the last to go. “Please don’t let Gavin be pregnant in the morning, Geoff, I don’t think the internet could handle it.”

“Fuck you, go home,” is Geoff’s dismissive reply, not even bothering to turn around.

“Right on, boss. Use protection!” Ray makes a show of closing the door carefully behind him, which is actually quite thoughtful of him, Gavin thinks.

Now just the two of them, it’s quiet for a moment. Gavin leans his head back and closes his eyes, grinning to himself. “Do you think they actually—”

“Shut up.”

“Are you ever going to let me talk—”

“Shut _up_.”

“I could tell you to make me, but that’s a bit clichè, isn’t it—ahhhh!”

The downside of having this conversation with his eyes closed while reclining on a couch is that Gavin is not prepared for Geoff to shove his legs off and drop down next to him. He scrambles back and opens his eyes; Geoff sits with his full weight, head resting on the back of the couch, but tilted towards Gavin, eyes narrowed. 

“What the fuck do I even do with you.” His voice is pitched higher and Gavin is delighted—now Geoff is nervous, and yeah, he can work with this.

“I do have a few ideas,” Gavin offers with a sly grin. “I’ve thought about it a lot, after all.” He’s strangely quiet—they’ve been throwing stupid comments at each other for years, but now this is going somewhere besides just a laugh, and okay, maybe he’s still a little nervous himself, too. 

He watches Geoff close his eyes and swallow hard. His arms rest at his sides, legs loose and open and there’s really nothing else to do but shift closer, get one leg over Geoff’s and settle over his lap. Geoff inhales sharply and Gavin lets out a short breathless laugh of his own, watches Geoff’s face as he shifts his weight over him. This (and a myriad other compromising positions) is nothing new for them, really, until Gavin braces his hands on the back of the couch and rolls his hips, first experimentally and then harder, grinding down with purpose and _that_ draws an impressive groan from Geoff that Gavin has definitely not heard before.

“Yeah?” He aims for smug, but his grin is too sincere.

“Nope, fuck you, this is not my life, Gavin Free is not grinding his dick into my lap on my office couch,” Geoff mutters up at the ceiling, but he’s pulling his feet off the floor, up onto the couch, stretching his legs down the length of it so he’s nearly lying down with Gavin on top of him.

“You started it!”

“How the fuck—”

“You kissed me—”

“—and you were talking about my dick with my wife over Froot Loops this morning!” Both of their voices are rising higher and higher, and Gavin tries not to think about how bloody thin the Rooster Teeth office walls are.

“I was trying to be a gentleman and ask permission first!”

Geoff snorts. “Oh yeah, real fucking gentlemanly when you announced to everyone that you want in my pants.”

“What, what else could I have done, you wouldn’t even look at me!”

“Christ, you are a whiny bitch, Gavin. I’m looking at you now.” Gavin stops and meets his eyes, and it takes all the air out of his argument, because words are useless now with Geoff looking at him like _that_.

He lets out his breath in a rush. “...Oh. Right. Okay.” 

They’re suspended for a moment with eyes locked, careful breathing, until Gavin takes the opportunity to waggle his eyebrows. He’s rewarded with Geoff’s laughter, the giggle he gets when he and Gavin are left to their own devices, playing off each other because everything is stupid and hilarious all at once and this is no exception. They both move together, leaning in for another kiss, _finally_ , but they’re not quite coordinated, and Gavin laughs into the kiss as their teeth knock together. He doesn’t get to pull away, though, because Geoff reaches a hand to the back of Gavin’s head and angles him how he wants him, and, _oh_ , Gavin takes the direction and fits into place. While Gavin feels a bit frantic, hands skittering over Geoff’s shoulders, arms, chest, Geoff is solid and deliberate, one hand slipped down to his neck and the other spread over the small of his back, holding him in place.

Of course, this is when Gavin manages to overbalance, pushing them both down, and knock Geoff’s head against the arm of the couch. But Geoff still doesn’t break the kiss, just bites down hard on Gavin’s lower lip, and Gavin’s whimper might have been embarrassing had it not been lost into Geoff’s mouth. Retaliation is easy, though—he grinds down with his hips again, not tentative at all this time, their bodies lined up even better now, and it’s a good thing Geoff breaks the kiss because Gavin can hardly breathe.

“ _Fuck_ , you little shit,” Geoff says while arching back up into Gavin, and Gavin’s not sure when Geoff’s hand reached his ass but now Geoff’s pulling him in closer, too, and Gavin’s a little overwhelmed by this increasing pressure and friction.

He rests his forehead against Geoff’s and takes a moment to sort himself out—which is best accomplished by opening his mouth and letting whatever is on his mind tumble out. “Has anyone ever told you how bloody weird it is to kiss someone with a beard like that? Seriously, have you ever tried it yourself—that should be a, a requirement before you grow one out, make sure you can properly inform people what they’re getting into...”

Now Geoff is giggling helplessly and Gavin just beams at him, because making Geoff dissolve into laughter is one of his favorite pastimes—though rubbing dicks together on the Achievement Hunter couch is also pretty great, he’s learning.

So is getting thoroughly kissed by Geoff, who does not hesitate, bruising press of lips followed by sweeping tongue and Gavin is lost in it. He tries to focus but each shock of teeth or surge of tongue has him catching his breath and falling further into Geoff’s grasp. And he’s been here before, Geoff holding him down, fingers gripping almost too hard, but the difference here is that Gavin isn’t fighting back or trying (and failing) to get the upper hand, because he really, really wants to see where this is going, where Geoff _wants_ it to go.

But then there’s a rush of cool air between them, and Gavin fucking whines at the loss of contact as Geoff pushes him back. His tongue darts out to his lips and he’s sure he looks a mess, loose and boneless with red swollen lips and ridiculous not-quite-sex hair. “What—why—”

“I’m taking you home now.” Geoff stands up and heads to his desk, fumbling with his stuff, and Gavin would laugh at what an uncoordinated mess he is, too, but there are more pressing matters.

“What do you mean, you’re taking me home now? What about—” He waves a hand between them, but Geoff isn’t looking at him anyway, so he lets his hand drop.

Geoff sighs and turns around again, breath a little shaky. “You can go jerk off in the bathroom if you need to, but I am not fucking you on the Achievement Hunter couch.”

“What about our—”

“Let’s go _home_ , Gavin.”

His pitiful, frustrated groan only gets a crooked smile and a nod from Geoff. “I know, buddy. I know. Come on. I’ll drive fast.” He holds out his hand to help Gavin up off the couch.

“You’re the bloody _worst_ ,” Gavin says, but he’s smiling, too, as he takes Geoff’s hand and jumps to his feet. 

He’s definitely going to complain the whole way home, but he’s pretty sure it’s going to be worth the wait.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll write a porny sequel, I swear! (...Probably.)


End file.
